


Empty Inbetween

by Narroch



Category: Death Note
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-11
Updated: 2008-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narroch/pseuds/Narroch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mello always got what he wanted. But he is still learning that there is a very fine line between usefulness and dependence; between pain and abuse; between desire and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this back in '08 on fanfiction.net. Moved it over here to save it from the Purge of Filth.

Mello always got what he wanted.

When he was hungry, they ate. When he was tired, they slept. When he was determined to not be outdone, they worked for days on end, whether or not Matt had the endurance for it. If it was what Mello wanted, he would swallow caffeine pills dry and chain smoke entire packs in order to stay awake.

Mello always got what he wanted, because of the one thing looming over him that he could never have. L and his title, an inheritance he would never receive, an acknowledgment that would forever be silent. They both knew this, though whether it was due to Near (because he was more suitable for the job), or due to Kira (because he would most likely be the death of them) was not so clear.

But even though they both realized this damning truth, neither one dared breath a word of it to the other. Matt didn't want his head to be blown off, and Mello just couldn't bear to say it aloud at all. It would be too much like an admittance. Complete irreversible _defeat_.

So instead of Mello getting the One Big Thing he always wanted, he instead got All the Little Things. The day to day, in and out routine was given completely over to him, not because he was a better leader, but because having such intimate control over both their lives was a small compensation for not having control over the title of L.

Really, it was the only thing Matt could do to help soothe the poorly hidden hurt that Mello now constantly carried around with him. He did whatever Mello wanted, whenever he wanted.

So when Mello wanted to _fuck_ , they did. Hard and fast and rough just the way he wanted. There was no room for cuddling, or whispering sweet nothings, or even just enjoying the view; because those things were _also_ too much like an admittance for Mello. Complete irreversible _love_.

If he admitted to love, then he would also have to admit to a weakness, something too easily exploited. Something else that could hurt him. So he didn't; instead he just used Matt's body, turning him into a convenient physical outlet, rather than a caring lover with his own set of needs. He made it clear that the only reason he fucked with Matt was because it was too much of a hassle to walk out and find a hooker. It was not because he desperately wanted and _needed_ Matt, and the only time he felt right was when he was encircled by his strong arms. No, that had nothing to do with it.

It was only because he was horny and Matt was an arms length away.

It started with a slap.

Matt hadn't correctly entered an algorithm into the computer program, making the entire elaborate calculation worthless. Mello had been working on it for hours, and the mistake was an unbearable loss. With that single misplaced tap of the keyboard, Mello could practically feel both Kira and Near simultaneously take yet another step forward, leaving him farther behind.

He hated that feeling. He hated seeing their uncaring backs in front of him, steadily increasing the gap; he hated that more than anything else in the world, and it had violently rebounded on Matt in the form of the back of a gloved hand slamming across his face. The force of the blow had knocked his ever present goggles askew, uncovering shocked and watering eyes. Mello started yelling, hoping it would be loud enough to drown out the feeling of regret the action had created within him.

"You're so _fucking_ useless! Why the _hell_ do I keep you around when you just keep fucking up like this!"

Matt was silent, calmly accepting the insult with a sigh. He readjusted his goggles, wiped a sleeve across his mouth and mumbled out a reply.

"Hey, it was an accident, man..."

The meekness of it twisted the regret even deeper inside of Mello, which in turn only intensified the lashing out, retribution for such an unwanted emotion.

"Like hell you are! You do this shit every fucking day, always screwing us over with your stupidity, you're so goddamn _useless_! There's only one thing you are good at you know, only one thing you are good for, dirty cumbucket..."

Matt actually smiled at that and then laughed, the insult rolling off him like water from a duck's back.

"Who do you _really_ think is the bucket in this arrangement, eh Mello?"

He drew in a breath at that, rising up to his full height before bellowing at the top of his lungs.

" _Fuck_ you Matt!"

"Oh? It's usually me who does the fucking around here. You tryin' to say that you're finally man enough to be the pitcher instead of the catcher?" Matt was smugly grinning at him and the blood was suddenly visible, staining his smile a rusty red.

"Shut the fuck up." The words were hissed through welded teeth, as a warning; a fuse dripping with lighter fluid.

"Why don't you come over here and make me?"

The match was struck in the angry flare of Matt's retort and without any other warning, Mello detonated. He lunged at the redhead, using his forearm as a brace against his throat and bearing down on him until they fell into the wall. Matt struggled, raising his hands to push away the arm wedged painfully against his neck, as well as raising a leg up to try and put some space between them. Mello fluidly changed tactics and slid his arm to the side, off of Matt's throat and onto his encroaching hand, pinning him to the wall. He twisted his lower half, avoiding Matt's jutting knee and instead pushed their hips together, forcing him back.

They stood there for a moment, completely still with their bodies molded to one another, electricity shooting between their eyes, surging until the tension crested and Mello snapped. Without any signal, he slammed their mouths together, biting and straining into the kiss, completely dominating it. There was nothing loving about it, only violence that belied Mello's complete dependence on Matt. It was something he could not live with, but could not bear to give up either.

Matt didn't fight against Mello's sharp teeth, but let him draw blood as he pleased. He let the probing tongue enter his own mouth and trace wet circles within him, tangling his own into the motion. He tilted his head to meet the harsh action, taking it all in like he was a conduit made specifically for the currents of Mello's uncertain rage.

Mello pulled back and studied the bruised lips left in his wake, ignoring the stings of guilt and instead focusing his anger into a fever pitch. It was all he could do.

"This is all you can do... An unreliable guy like you... deserves nothing more than to be used like this."

Matt's eyes flickered beneath his goggles, his own anger sharpened to a blade's edge.

"If that's how it really is...then _use me_."

The words thickened in the air, heavy and threatening. The insinuation that there was more to them than just using and being used... Matt was daring him to prove that wrong, daring him to make the commitment; underneath all the self-deceptive layers they continually wrapped themselves in, he was _begging_ him.

But Mello always got what he wanted, so Matt couldn't ask the crucial question aloud. Instead he could only deliver an ultimatum: give Mello a chance to walk away and prove, without say a word, that Matt was of more value than a pawn. That he was more than just an outlet for Mello's frustrations, sexual or otherwise.

That he was someone worth _loving_.

But Mello couldn't allow himself to feel that, couldn't allow the obligations that came with it, couldn't allow himself that weakness. And so, even though his heart twisted in on itself and writhed in his chest, wracking him with emotional pain and loss, he still swung his knee up to slam it into Matt's gut; pinned as he was against the wall, it drove into his vulnerable stomach like a piston.

Matt's entire face split open in shock, air and spittle flying out of him, eyes wide and glazed with pain. As the boy crumpled to the floor, clutching and winded, Mello calmly undid the string lacing the fly of his pants and released his half erect cock into the open air. With a face of stone, cold and uncaring, he gave his answer.

"Suck it."

Matt looked up, still gasping for air, with more pain condensating behind his eyes than the physical blow could account for; his shoulders visibly sagged, dragged down with rejection, at the sight Mello presented him with.

For a moment, Mello wasn't sure he was going to do it; here was a chance to upset the shaky balance they had been living in up till now, a chance to perhaps gain something more than a murderer's arrest. But the opportunity slithered out of view as the demanding fire in Matt's eyes snuffed itself out and he once again accepted his role as utilitarian. Mello felt no surprise, only a stabbing disappointment that Matt hadn't lashed out and instead agreed to be so blatantly used.

He was patient as Matt uncurled himself, reassured his lungs, and wobbled up to his knees. He waited silently as Matt shuffled forward and hugged around his legs, burying his face into Mello's pelvis, just to the side of his cock. He thought he could feel him trembling, but the sensation left just as quickly as it came, and Matt was now looking up at him, a wall behind his eyes hiding the pain that had been on display a moment earlier.

Matt slowly nuzzled at his erection, breathing in the heat, the steely hard core covered in soft velvet skin. As he neared the tip, he gave a long appreciative lick, sampling the premature glistening droplet with a sigh. Mello gripped a handful of the red hair, twisting it sharply making his head jerk up.

"Come on Matt... Show me some enthusiasm, I know you love this thing..."

Mello anchored his head between his hands and jerked his hips forward, harshly slamming himself into the back of Matt's throat. The boy winced and gagged, trying to move back but unable to because of Mello's death grip on his hair. His hands came up to push at Mello's hips in an attempt to dislodge him, but instead he was crushed into the wall, with Mello bearing all his weight onto him. He couldn't help but deep throat the blond, horribly unprepared for it as he was. Drool slipped from his struggling mouth, and muffled moans rose from his abused throat as the cock rammed mercilessly at his gag reflex. The vibrations only spurred Mello on, and he began banging Matt's head against the wall with each thrust.

Mello was focused intently on Matt's face, watching him squirm and grimace and _try_ to accommodate. The way Matt twisted in his palm was more of a turn on than the actual blow job itself; the fact that he was forcing his will on another, and he responded by taking him in, wanted or not, was a spectacular ego boost. Mello always had to force himself onto Matt like this to give him that illusion, instead of the possibility that Matt allowed these actions because he loved him. He couldn't be allowed to feel that, so it was always like this, unnecessarily violent.

He watched as Matt suddenly relaxed, throat opening up, and arms going limp; it was as if an internal switch had been flipped as his body realized it would be much easier to not fight it. Mello always loved the second of surrender, the visible sag as he gave into Mello's desires. It was almost enough to fool himself with.

Matt was now gurgling obscenely, rolling his tongue with every inward motion creating a messy but delightful friction. It was enough stimulation to make Mello stop breathlessly, holding himself back from the pleasure that rose in him like a tide to the moon. Skullfucking was nice, but he had other, more intense, more appropriate ways to bring himself to that peak.

Mello stepped back, grinning at the way Matt's mouth hung open, as if expecting him to plunge back in. He slipped off his leather jacket, revealing lightly tanned skin streaked with pale rivulets of scar tissue; a dish of honey raked through with knives. Matt reached up to trace one of the pale lines, but Mello slapped his hand away. It was a strange sensation, and he didn't like it; only able to halfway feel the caress through the nerveless skin, and it always made him feel bizarrely vulnerable.

"Don't... touch me." He panted the order, but then cocked his head to reconsider.

"Just, undress me..." Matt moved forward again, reaching out, "...without using your hands."

He faltered slightly, but quickly covered over it. His hands dropped limply to his side and he leaned forward to grip the corner of Mello's unlaced pants with his teeth. He had to tilt his head to the side in order to keep Mello's slick cock from poking him in the ear; it was almost cute.

He began to tug at the tight leather, pulling with teeth bared, dropping it low to uncover sharp hipbones, and well defined pelvic lines. Mello helped the process along by wiggling his lower half, slipping the material steadily downwards. Once his pants were dragged to the floor and Matt was on all fours, practically kissing his feet, he lightly stepped out of them, shucking them across the room.

"Now, drop your pants." Matt leaned back against the wall and quietly squirmed from his tight pants. Mello grinned at Matt's obvious arousal, amused that he could be so turned on with so little physical stimulation. Besides the cock pistoning in and out of his mouth, Mello hadn't even touched him.

He squatted down, and reached out to grab it tightly, shattering any semblance of personal space or limits. With a feral smile drawing back his lips, he began pumping with a vice grip. It was a mean and unnecessary action since Matt had already been brought to fullness, and the harsh pressure only coaxed subdued whimpers from his mouth.

"Mello..."

"Matt, keep your mouth shut unless you want me to put something in it again."

He did quiet down, turning his head away sullenly, still squirming his hips trying to escape the painful fingers that were now rolling the skin, pinching lightly and pulling. He couldn't help but keen when Mello's thumb pressed squarely on the sensitized tip, digging in as if trying to fit inside him; the untrimmed nail felt like it was almost cutting him. His whole body jerked and his hands pressed desperately against Mello's shoulders, begging him silently to stop. It was ignored, and after a few more seconds of torture where Matt's toes began to curl from the pain, he finally shoved him away.

"Fucker, that _hurts_!"

Mello immediately retaliated by grabbing Matt's goggles and pulling them back from his face, so far that Matt actually had his whole head yanked forward. His eyes were wide as Mello released the lenses and they crashed back into his face, blinding him with brutal force. He let out an undignified yelp and grabbed at his face, trying to physically clench the pain away.

While he moaned obscenities and cradled his throbbing face in his hands, Mello was busy rummaging through his pile of clothes. Matt ignored it, still too concerned about the sharp daggers that seemed to be lodged in his eye sockets. However, the metallic click of a gun's hammer being cocked, and the cold rolling of a revolver against his thigh instantly rounded his sense together in a fit of hyper awareness. He tensed like a deer scenting the wind and slowly lowered his hands.

Through blurry aching eyes he saw the indistinct outline of a silver gun, resting casually across his leg. It was attached to an arm that was also draped over him, and which idly swung the handgun over his skin. The cold sensation slung out buds of fear across his flesh that forfeited all movement. He could only watch with bloodshot eyes as the deadly cylinder traced circles between his legs.

"M-Mello... That piece isn't... hot, is it?"

"I guess we'll find out, huh!"

The barrel nosed its way down Matt's leg, pausing to slide up and down the length of his member, carefully circling the tip. The icy metal stole Matt's breath away, its wicked mouth was a questioning black hole, the lingering possibility of death or extreme pain. Matt trusted Mello not to shoot him, but he couldn't help his fearful knee-jerk reaction to the sight of a deadly weapon nuzzling its muzzle against his most sensitive piece of anatomy. He had seen firsthand what that exact revolver could do. What _Mello_ could do...

It made him go stiff with worry, unable to move for fear of firing the damn thing. Instead he whispered harshly, keeping his voice low.

"Mello, you better put that fuckin' shit away, you don't play around with heat like that..." He was unable to finish the sentence since that very same heat was suddenly brought up and whipped across his face, hitting him like a flash of silver lightning. The blow caught him just below his forehead, the thin bone segregating his temple from his eye socket taking the brunt of the hit. If that eye hadn't been blackened already, it certainly was now, and he belatedly realized that it had broken the skin as red suddenly bloomed in the vision on his right side.

"I will play around with whatever the hell I want, bitch, that includes you."

If there was one thing Mello was good at, it was pistol-whipping. He knew how to hit so effectively that it cut, turning his gun into a stunted blade. It was one of the reasons why he favored revolvers, with their rugged and more robust design, even after beating someone upside the head with it, a blockage or malfunction was still virtually impossible.

Matt could only sway, too stunned to really feel anything else except the gash throbbing in time with his heart. He didn't even realize that Mello had moved until he suddenly felt the icy metal nudging rudely at his balls, then ending up pressed against his sensitive entrance. The ring of metal fit perfectly over the ring of muscle, cupping the curves of his hole almost protectively. That was, at least until Mello started pushing.

Matt couldn't help the sharp gasp that followed, his lungs ripping in air before he even realized he was in pain in yet another place. The hard cold edges felt like glass slicing through him, and the sharp precise pain snapped him out of the disoriented fog that had been hanging around his head. He reached up, an angry grimacing snarl on his face, and grabbed Mello's throat, squeezing tightly.

"You better get that fucking gun' out of me or..."

The hammer clicked as the gun cocked itself, Matt could feel the cold vibration through the dry burning pain and he immediately froze, loosening his grip.

"Or you'll what? Get your ass blown off?"

"Mello..." His voice had lost its steely edge, dulled by fear and pain; the name was almost whispered, laced with tired desperation.The regret bloomed in the blond once more, and he pushed the gun in even farther in response, trying to squelch the feeling through purposefully inflicted pain. It was amazing to hear the gasps and whines that fell from Matt, since he was usually so laid back and unaffected; the vulnerable noises were hotwired to Mello's insatiable ego and each utterance made his conceit grow a few inches. And yet, beneath the all self satisfying internal histrionics, a slinking rueful feeling still crept about in Mello's skull, gnawing at him with every twitch of Matt's paralyzed body, barbing him with guilt that only burrowed deeper the longer he ignored it.

It was a vicious cycle that rapidly spiraled downwards to his self destruction, but he didn't know how to break from it.

Matt was now shaking, rapid breaths whistling through clenched teeth. The cut on his face was still bleeding sluggishly, and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles of hurt. His whole body was clenched up around the metal impaling him up to the trigger, trying to push it out without moving it enough to fire it; an impossible task. Mello could tell that he was trying his hardest not to cry, more from the fear rather than the pain. Having such a deadly object forced into the most intimate spot possible, it was the worst kind of psychological torture. There was nothing holding him from death but the twitch of a single finger, something he had no control over.

Such helplessness brought him to the edge of tears, the brink of begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness for even hinting at the forbidden subject of love. Forgiveness for even thinking that he could be more than a tool in Mello's belt.

Mello needed to see that vulnerability, needed him to reconfirm their status through his own pleading eyes. There could be no mistake; because if Matt was certain that things would never change, it made it easier for him to believe that as well.

He rewarded Matt's emotional transparency by stroking his hair in mock concern, and slowly reclaiming his swallowed gun. Matt's hands tightened around his shoulders as it was carefully removed, pulling from him like a large splinter. He was almost about to heave a sigh of relief, right when the site caught on the rim of his ass. He wailed his discomfort, and Mello responded by yanking it forcefully out.

The sharp agony that action caused, forced the air out of him and made his fingernails draw blood as they dug into Mello's shoulders, riding out the burning pain with a scream. He writhed as electricity jerked from his ass to his brain, relaying the staggering amount of pain such a small motion created.

Even before he had recovered, he could feel his legs being pried apart again. Mello was pushing him back up against the wall, and he hadn't even realized that he had slid down from it to begin with. He could feel Mello wedge himself between his legs, grinding idly.

"What were you saying before Matt? Huh? That I am not good enough to fuck you?"

He grabbed a leg and flung it up above his shoulder, and then twisted Matt's other leg around his waist so that he was pressed directly up against his aching entrance. Matt gave a small anxious moan, uncertainty twisting on his face, but beyond that did nothing to get away from him.

"Cause from where I'm standing, you look so fuckable right now..."

He rotated his hips obscenely, pressing harshly but not quite entering.

"You might find... that you like it... You're so sensitive down there... that you don't even need to be aroused to come... All it takes, is some direct stimulation... and you'll be squirting in no time... even if you hate it..."

He motioned vaguely at Matt's flaccid cock, gone limp from fear and prolonged pain.

"This won't do at all Matt... Such an underachiever, even in this!"

"Fuck... It's your fault and you know it!"

"Even so, we better do something to fix this... _impotency_."

The word was drawn out with a snarl, and Mello began pushing forward, the head slick with spit, stretching past the tight opening. Matt's eyes were wide, flashing rapidly from Mello's face to his groin as the burning overstretched sensation grew. He ground his teeth and bore with it, even if he felt like screaming from the agony of squeezing something even larger in, dragging mercilessly over his already painful wounds. The gun had been cold and horribly abrasive, but still small. This was warm, firm, and so much larger; it stretched him in new ways and filled him completely until he forgot how to breathe.

It was painful, but in a different way, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel, or how to react. Was this what Mello felt all those times before? Horribly awkward and uncomfortable? It wasn't anything like how he imagined it when Mello was slicked with sweat, bucking underneath him like a wild animal that couldn't be satisfied, he couldn't get enough of it then. Why wasn't he experiencing those amazing sparks of pure pleasurable delight? Why wasn't he moaning, begging for it?

Mello was now full sheathed within him, and he could feel the heat of their connection like a spike of fever burning deep within him. Even if the mind-blowing euphoria he had been expecting was absent, it still felt amazing to be physically bonded to Mello like this. It was intimate, and warm, and the kind of soreness that made him grin. Letting Mello take him like this made the bitter longing within him pull back for a while; giving himself up like this so unconditionally, made him forget for a moment, that Mello would never be able to do the same for him, no matter what it was they did physically.

Mello now held quite still, mouth hanging open and eyes glazed as he simply relished the heat, the staking of a claim. Matt took the pause as an opportunity to desperately draw in air, and barb his own needles.

"What's...what's the matter Mello? Too much...for you to handle?"

That snapped him out of his trance, and he glared down at the boy spread out beneath him, regripping his legs and bracing his stance. The glare elongated, turning into a feral grin.

"We'll see who can't handle it..."

He pulled out slowly, enjoying the way the skin around Matt's hole was drawn back as well, and then when only his tip was still clenched inside, he quickly jerked his hips forward once again, slamming so hard into him that it seemed like he was trying to rend him in two. Matt's muscles rippled beneath his skin, jerking like they were a separate animal, and a loud wail was forced from him. It trailed off to a groan as Mello pulled back again, and repeated the action.

They fell into a quiet rhythm, Mello biting back trembling moans, and Matt struggling with broken sounds shattering in his throat, but unable to make it to his mouth. He wasn't used to this position, but the pain had dissipated, turning the movement inside him into a slow tingling ache rather than a searing burn. It was beginning to feel bearable, almost enjoyable, and seeing Mello's face gone slack with lust, completely given over to the age old instincts that silenced his mind and commanded his body to push forward again and again and again into that delicious heat; that alone made the painful role reversal worth it.

To see him not thinking, not calculating, not deliberating...just simply feeling. Completely in the moment, with nothing between them, not Near, not Kira, not L; his whole world narrowed down to the bright fragments of pleasure he was able to pull from his body. Matt decided that he could walk a mile on hot coals, holding a quart of kerosene just to see him unwrapped like that.

But then, when Mello suddenly grabbed both his legs, dipping his shoulder beneath them in order to hoist him up and began thrusting at a more precise angle, he decided that he could _crawl_.

The new position brought a steep and unexpected change within Matt, as if throwing a switch and sending a sudden rush of glittering blood coursing through him, the caressing inside him was suddenly shot through with brilliant shards of pleasure. Each motion sent another spike through him, and he couldn't breathe as the intensity of the sensation encircled his hips in warmth. Further in the constricting waves of pleasure wound until there was a sweet, throbbing numbness stabbing at his core, filling his voice with an artless tremolo. It demanded an outlet, but Matt couldn't do anything as the stimulation continued on, mauling at his insides unceasingly.

Suddenly the strange tension leapt up and erupted in a single rending burst, sending electric arcs of rapture across the back of his eyes, as fluid also arced through the air. It splattered onto Mello's heaving torso, still thrusting blindly. He stopped suddenly as he felt the hot streaks on him, and he looked down in surprise to see Matt's half raised cock still dribbling out its seed.

He smeared two fingers through it, lifting it to closely inspect the liquid. It was rather transparent, not the deep milky color it should have been.

"Matt... What the fuck, your body wasn't even ready for it, and you still orgasmed! Why the hell aren't you on all fours every night, huh? If you love it that much, you should be begging for it... "

Matt was still caught in the throes of the unexpected climax, and only half heard the insult. Lacking even the energy to cover himself, he had none to spare for backtalk, and simply went limp against the wall. Mello watched him with the cold weight of his high and mighty bearing, simply observing the way his face relaxed in complete satisfaction. He was heedful of how that completion also made him feel, the way it gave him thrills to bring Matt to a glorious climax.

He realized that he was appreciating his partner's pleasure a little too much, and decided that his next course of action would be solely for himself. He pulled out, ignoring the tiny moan it drew from Matt, and clambered over his legs in order to straddle him.

The mechanics of his body had finally caught up with his orgasm, and Matt was completely hard now, the bow of his erection slippery with spent come. Without preparing himself, or making eye contact, or even taking a deep breath, Mello lowered himself down, slowly but determinedly pressing Matt inside him. They both groaned, Matt from the onslaught of tight heat on his tingling erection, still extremely sensitized in a post-orgasmic state; Mello from the dry clinging pain of being voluntarily impaled.

"M-Mello... What are you...?"

"What does it... look like...idiot? I'm, I'm... _hah_!"

Matt was fully inside him, pulsing and hard. It made Mello's back arch, caused his toes to perform some interesting acrobatic, and ripped his breath from him in hot little pants. They were deeply joined, but not a single cry could escape Mello's quivering lips. The sudden pain of dry penetration only sharpened the contrast between the pleasure he had already been feeling, and made his own arousal twitch in response. It wouldn't take much more.

Matt could only lay there, stupefied. Too glazed over from his own prostate induced orgasm to really care what Mello did with his own, he let him take his time to adjust and did not try to thrust up into him. But after only a few more seconds, Mello started moving on his own, slowly riding Matt.

Matt was starting to get some of the feeling back in his limbs as the continued stimulation drove out the clinging dredges of his previous climax. The redhead reached forward to touch Mello, caress and encourage him, but he only slapped the encroaching hands away, snarling yet another "Don't touch me!", before increasing his tempo almost as if in retaliation.

He tightened his knees, nearly holding Matt down in place by force, not allowing him any freedom of movement. Mello was the one with complete control of the situation, even though he was the one taking it up the ass. Matt knew that if he tried to lean forward, switch positions, or even just hold Mello to make it easier, the blond would most likely attack him again. The swollen cut on his face made itself known with a quick stab of pain, reminding him that the same gun was still within arm's reach.

He also knew that, despite the delicious sensations he was gaining from the blond, Mello wasn't riding him as a returned gesture of kindness. He was only doing it because that was what he liked, and Matt just happened to have a nicely shaped cock. The fact that he was grinding hard, and on the brink of sobbing for breath, was only because of the overwhelming physical brilliance billowing through his body, rather than any intense emotional connection.

There was no love in it.

Matt knew that, knew the futility in trying to carve out a spot for himself in Mello's heart. Mello had sealed it a long time ago, already filled to the brim with bitter resentment, burning motives, and a chip on his shoulder the size of a small country. There was simply no room for him unless he had a distinct use. He knew that was what this was about, establishing a function between them.

If he wanted to stay with Mello, loveless or not, he needed to uphold that purpose.

And so, Matt gripped him tightly as Mello gave a harsh yell and arched back away from the burning stream now shooting out of him. He could feel the internal spasms clenching around him for a few seconds, Mello rolling beneath the faceless waves of euphoria before collapsing in a boneless heap, infinitely heavier.

Mello didn't realize that he had slumped forward until he felt arms wrapping around him, holding him gently. He growled softly, trying to sit up and get away from the warm arms binding him to a warm body. But Matt just tightened his embrace, not letting him move. Mello knew that at this point he should start threatening, or fighting back, or even grabbing the silver pistol laying off to the side. But he did nothing. He was tired of fighting, tired of denying. He sighed, and decided that for just this once, it would be okay.

He relaxed on Matt's chest until their breathing was slow and sedated, collectively drawn in and softly expelled from the same lung. He waited until their warmth couldn't be distinguished, and their bodies were melting together in drowsy waves. Indulging in what was the longest, most pleasant embrace that had ever occurred between them... and right when the satisfaction was at its ripest, right when the possibilities began to germinate in their minds, he abruptly roused himself and got up off of Matt, disentangling their limbs in a fit of angry energy.

He stood up, completely naked, and yet more concealed than ever before. He let cold demeaning scowl slide onto his face and walked away without a word, leaving Matt floundering and confused.

He had given his desires an action, and then aborted it; given his feelings a name and then drowned it.

Simply because Mello always got what he wanted, and what he couldn't have, he stopped wanting.


End file.
